The Doof Warrior is a man of simple pleasures. He loves his mom, his red onesie, and of course, his electric guitar. When he’s not shredding to his heart’s desire he merely sits in quiet contemplation, waiting to be called upon once more to lead his men into battles untold. That’s when the Doof Warrior becomes not just a symbol, but a God among mortals as he lays waste to the eardrums before him, riffing like a madman aboard his triumphant Doof Wagon.
This is the story of a man once known as Coma, a man who overcame the tragedy of his mother’s death and subsequent blindness to become the wasteland’s sole proprietor of heavy metal soundwaves. However, legends are made, not born, through cause and effect…
As a child, Coma lived with his mother near a deep, unlit mine, one which they would escape into whenever danger approached. She too was a musician and she brought joy to her son’s otherwise dull life by nurturing his ability. He soon took to the guitar and quickly became a child prodigy, one destined for great things, if not for the fact that the world had been torn apart. Yet their happiness would not last as one day while scavenging for food they were attacked by marauders. Unable to retreat into the mine fast enough, his mother was captured and raped before his very eyes. He pleaded for the marauders to let her go, but instead they cut off her head and threw it at him, causing blood to splatter into his eyes. The marauders then left him there, alone, cradling his mother’s head in his lap as he cried tears of blood.
Unable to see clearly, Coma crawled back into the mine, dragging his mother’s head with him. He grabbed his guitar and continued onward, deep into the mine, never intending to see the light of day again. The blood in his eyes became infected and soon enough he couldn’t see at all, not that it mattered in the darkness where he had found himself. He managed to survive for years down there in the dark, feeding on various rodents and insects while drinking water that bubbled up from the sea bed below. Despite the hardship, he continued to play the guitar every day to an audience of one; his mother.
Eventually Coma was discovered by a man named Immortan Joe, who had heard music echoing forth from the cave. Joe was enthralled by the sound and immediately displayed compassion for Coma. Joe asked Coma to join him, spoke of everything they had to offer each other, and promised to protect him. Coma, having been met with kindness for the first time from anyone outside his mother, agreed to follow Joe, placing him on a path towards his destiny.
Years later, Coma, now known only as the Doof Warrior, has become a leader among Immortan Joe’s clan of wastelanders. He lives for battle and relishes in his role as a Pied Piper for the troops. His musical performances serve a greater purpose in this broken world, guiding and strengthening the resolve of an army beneath him. Yet he does not forget his past. The Doof Warrior keeps his mother close by at all times, having fashioned a mask from her very own face, flesh which he pulled from her skull. He also dons a red jumpsuit in memory of the last thing he saw; blood.
Now it is time for the Doof Warrior’s greatest moment. He has been called upon to lead an army across the desert to retrieve Immortan Joe’s stolen property. What that property is matters not to the Doof Warrior. All he knows is that Immortan Joe is along for the ride this time and as such the Doof Warrior must be better than he has ever been before. He must shred like no one before him. He must perform beyond the peak of his talent, a showcase for the ages, a triumphant roar of music over machinery.
Riding atop his Doof Wagon, the Doof Warrior is unstoppable. The Doof Wagon is an 8-wheel drive, fully equipped supercharged V8 mobile stage carrying a wall of stacked speakers and sub-woofers in the front and four large Taiko drums in the back, connected to air conditioning ducts for massive sound enhancement. The Doof Warrior isn’t alone aboard his vehicular monstrosity, accompanied by four drummers that pound away to provide the “doof” of his namesake. These war drummers are his to command and they know not to mess with the groundwork that he has laid out for them.
As for the Doof Warrior himself, his personal setup is truly remarkable. He straps himself into a bungee cord harness that allows full movement across his stage without worry of being thrown from the Doof Wagon as it screams across the desert landscape. His guitar is also strapped into place and what a guitar it is. The double-necked electric guitar/bass hybrid is a marvel of engineering, crafted from the finest metal available and equipped with a flame-thrower just in case anyone dares attempt to interrupt his performance.
The cavalry chases their enemy across the wasteland, urged forward by the sludge metal riffs that burst forth from the Doof Wagon’s speakers. As they close in on their prey, the Doof Warrior’s shredding intensifies. He lets rip with a blast of flame from his guitar, signalling that the stolen War Rig and its cargo is their target. The army attacks while the Doof Warrior shreds feverishly, even in the face of an oncoming sandstorm.
Unfortunately the sandstorm brings with it an unwelcome reprieve from battle. Not only that, it allows the War Rig to pull further away from its pursuers. When the chase resumes, it is short-lived. The War Rig escapes through a canyon and blocks the path by collapsing the walls with explosives. Unable to proceed, the Doof Warrior settles himself into a patient, slow chug of chords on his guitar while the blockade is removed and Immortan Joe continues the pursuit without him. When the path is clear, the Doof Warrior leads his men onward, eager to rejoin the battle. They soon reunite with Immortan Joe, only to be stymied again when mud slows their progress. The War Rig eludes capture again and the army is forced to regroup.
The Doof Warrior lives note to note and if his notes are no longer needed, he retreats inward. To the unkeen eye he would appear to be at rest, but the truth is he’s silently composing his next masterpiece. This cannot be the end of his symphony and the next movement shall not fail his brethren. This time they will succeed, this time he will conduct a victory. This time…
Suddenly the Doof Warrior snaps back into action, going from motionless contemplation to erratic shredding in an instant. The War Rig has returned! The final confrontation is at hand! The troops are rallied once more by the Doof Warrior’s fire-breathing guitar as they make their move to intercept the enemy.
While the battle reignites, the Doof Warrior launches himself across the stage, rebounding in time with his riffs, springing to the beat of the drums. Chaos reigns all around him as the army attacks those that dared defy them. Through it all, the Doof Warrior never loses a step, not even for an instant. He is at one with the music and nothing can interrupt him.
But wait, what’s this? An unauthorized individual has climbed aboard the Doof Wagon! Blasphemy! The Doof Warrior screams for justice and plays his music at breakneck pace as the fight continues on his very stage. This intruder, this cretin even goes so far as to grab the Doof Warrior’s guitar and use it as a weapon. How dare he?! Thankfully the guitar bungees straight back to the Doof Warrior, who proceeds to lash out at the trespasser with notes that would make crows fall from the sky. Nevertheless, the intruder escapes onto another vehicle and the chase goes on.
The end is near. The army has surrounded their prey. The Doof Warrior strums his guitar with nightmarish precision. The glory of this day and, most importantly, his performance will live on forever…
The War Rig detonates in a massive hellfire of twisted metal, setting off a chain reaction of destruction that decimates the vehicular army. Tires are sent flying, gas tanks explode, engines and bodies litter the sand. Not even the Doof Wagon can withstand the carnage. The Doof Warrior’s guitar is ripped from his hands, blasted forward into the wreckage while the Doof Warrior himself is ejected from his perch, smashed downward as the stage crashes on top of him. The drums are torn from the wagon, never to beat again in the hot sun.
Today was not the day for the Doof Warrior’s ultimate triumph. But in his defeat, a legend was born. A legend that will continue to grow, for this is not the end of the Doof Warrior. Somehow he survived and he’s crawling, crawling through the sand like he did on the day his mother was taken from him. Crawling through the wreckage, searching for his most precious possession; his instrument. When he finds it, he will compose a new symphony, a symphony of revenge that will travel to every last corner of the wasteland. May God have mercy on us all.